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From Heaven Sent

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Thanking his brothers for dinner, Castiel excused himself, gathering up his bag. He climbed the stairs to his room and stopped at the threshold, dropping his bag against the door to prop it open, and flicking on the main lights.

There was nothing there; well, nothing that wasn’t supposed to be there. His bed sat alongside the wall, the drapes were parted, the closet door was closed, and his books sat exactly where he’d left them on his desk.

Still, the feeling of being watched hadn’t abated, if anything it seemed to be getting worse. Maybe his room was haunted or something. Sure, and that would probably make sense if ghosts were real--which they weren’t. So the feeling of being watched had to be something else.

Sighing, Cas settled down at his desk to study. He checked the clock, then stared bleakly into the mirror he’d set up on his desk. Eight pm already. This was the chief problem with attending college in your hometown. While his friends partied hard in their dorm rooms, Castiel caught two buses back to the home that he shared with his brothers, and ended up having to negotiate for privacy so that he could get some work done.

Might as well get down to it.

Time always seemed to disappear when studying started. Class, of course, seemed to go on forever, but when he had something to do his free time evaporated. It was just creeping past ten when Cas checked the clock again, and his eyes caught the reflection of movement in the mirror.

He just about fell straight out of his chair onto the floor.

Sitting on the bed, cross legged, burnished wings spread impressively wide--sat an angel.

Castiel found himself staring. He couldn't help himself. The angel had soft green eyes and dusky brown hair, a peppering of freckles dusting his handsome cheeks. He was also, far more noticeably, naked from the waist up, and Castiel wasn't ashamed to say that he was taking his time looking.

Right. Angel on his bed. There was a half naked angel on his bed.

“Why? H-how?”

“Don't be afraid, I’m an angel of the Lord. Actually, I’m more than just that, I’m your guardian angel. My name’s Dean.”

“I don't understand. My--why would I have a guardian angel? I’m fine. My life is fine.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I work hard. I’m a nice person.”

The angel on the bed chuckled. “That's not all it was, Cas.”

Castiel scrunched his nose up. “No. No, you can't don't get to just show up and invalidate everything I’ve ever done.”

The angel slid one denim clad leg off the bed.

“I’m not here to invalidate you. I'm not really even meant to be here at all.”

Cas was scowling now. Any shine or surprise from the presence of an honest to God angel in his bedroom had evaporated. He found himself glowering at “Dean” instead.

“Then why are you here?”

“You weren’t meant to see me,” the angel admitted. “Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t, I only seem to have upset you. But I’ve been watching you for such a long time… I… Maybe I just wanted to be seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“We slip between phases of the universe, that’s how we stay invisible. But I wasn’t fast enough—that’s why you saw me in the mirror. You’ve been catching glimpses of me a lot lately.”

Cas thought back to the feeling he had of being watched over the last few weeks. Had he caught glimpses of his guardian angel in the reflections in his room? It made a certain odd kind of sense, he supposed.

“Angels are encouraged not to show themselves to humans. We sort of have that rule because of the whole thing with Joseph and Mary and the shepherds. You won’t tell anyone, will you? I’d only get into trouble…”

Castiel’s face fell. Dean actually sounded scared, like he’d risked a lot to show himself, and Cas felt guilty for his bad mood. It wasn’t the angel’s fault he had an exam on Monday.

And besides, it was sort of nice to have an explanation for how spooky his room had been lately. “Angel” was better than “Ghost”, even if both ideas made Castiel feel like maybe he’d inhaled too many marker pens.

Cautiously he crossed the room, moving over toward the bed.

“I’m not angry,” he said. “But I do sort of… I need to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Do you mind?”

Dean looked at Cas’ outstretched hand, then into his face once more, and gave the slightest nod.

It was enough. Carefully, and aware of the trust that was being offered to him, Castiel lay his fingertips on the curve of Dean’s bare shoulder. He wasn’t sure why he reached to touch his bare skin first, but it was electric, particularly given that Cas didn’t go out of his way to touch naked people in general. Still, it had seemed more respectful somehow than taking an instant handful of fluffy bronze feathers.

He did that next, let his fingertips bounce against plumage that was deceptively firm across the muscular arch of Dean’s wing, then reached further back until he was sliding them through layers of warm, insulating down, the angel’s body heat radiating through them.

Dean shivered, exhaling with a rush of surprise. The breath fell on Castiel’s neck, and it was only then that he realized how close he’d had to come in order to explore Dean’s feathers, reaching so far across him that it was an actual mystery why he hadn’t just toppled over into Dean’s lap already. He was so close that he could count the freckles on Dean’s face, a task made much easier by the fact that he was blushing underneath them.

Cas gave a little shout of surprise when the angel’s arm snagged his hip, and he found himself toppled the rest of the way into Dean’s lap. He was strong, his grip insistent, arm wrapped tight around Castiel’s waist.

And his boner was jammed into the meat of Cas’ thigh.

“I’ve watched you for a very long time,” Dean repeated. “I’ve watched you a lot. Doing all sorts of things…”

Now it was Castiel’s turn to blush.

“Have you—have you been watching me masturbate? That’s private! How could you—“

The angel pressed a finger to his lips, silencing his outburst.

“I think I fell a little bit in love with you.”

Cas scowled, and all at once shoved at the angel’s chest, beating at him until Dean was forced to let him go. He put some distance between them, his hands curled into fists, feeling bitterly ashamed, not just that he’d been watched, but because just for a moment he’d actually been indulging in his own attraction for the angel. Now, though, he was just pissed off.

“You didn’t fall in love with me! You got turned on watching me beat off! I wasn’t doing it for you!”

Dean looked crestfallen. Even his wings sagged. “You’re angry.”

“Yes, I’m angry! You--!” His eyes flew wider, understanding dawning in them. “You have no idea what you did wrong, do you?”

“We’re guardian angels. We’re supposed to watch.”

Castiel shook his head, frustrated. “You’re not supposed to watch that.”

“But you do,” Dean said. “You’re being hypocritical.”

Cas blushed. Of course Dean had been watching him watch porn as well. It just kept getting worse and worse.

“That’s porn,” he said. “The people who made it… they got paid to expose themselves. They wanted to do it.”

“I can’t pay you,” said the angel bleakly. “Money is a human thing.”

Cas put his head in his hands for a moment, then raked his fingers back through his hair. He was supposed to be studying, not teaching an angel about voyeurism. Besides, Dean had this wide eyed hurt puppy dog look going on. It was really sad.

“I wouldn’t have revealed myself if I didn’t love you,” Dean protested after a moment. “It’s…it’s not just about what you look like without your clothes on. You’re kind and generous, you give your time to others, you help strangers… I’ve watched a lot of different humans over the centuries, but you’re the only one I’ve ever cared for, the only one I’ve…”

“Revealed yourself to,” Castiel sighed. What was the point of being angry, anyway? It wasn’t like the angel really understood why. “Well I guess that makes us even. You revealed yourself to me, and I… I guess you’ve already seen all of me.”

Dean stared at his knees for a moment. Cas was about to say something else when the angel beat him to it: “It was nice when you touched my feathers.”

“Before you got all grabby, you mean?”

Dean just kept on looking sad, and Castiel rolled his eyes. “I liked touching your feathers too,” he admitted. “But I’m still mad about you watching me. Alone time is alone time.”

So desperately did Dean’s expression imply that he was pleading for forgiveness, that Castiel practically felt his resistance snap inside him like an overstretched rubber band. He sighed, coming closer and crouching in front of Dean, and said “You really like me, huh?”

Dean nodded, mutely, and Castiel laid a hand on his cheek.

“Do angels know how to make out?”

Dean just frowned at him.

“I’m going to assume that’s a no.”

Cas had to stretch to reach Dean, who despite the hand that Castiel moved to the back of his neck, didn’t seem to understand that he was meant to be closing the distance between them. Instead, Castiel had to reach all the way to press his lips against Dean’s, moving them faintly against Dean’s mouth.

Castiel hadn’t kissed many people, but he was pretty sure that this was the worst kiss he’d ever had.

And then somehow it got even more awful.

Suddenly Dean was kissing him back, moving his head back and forth, mouth wide open and tongue slathering against Castiel’s lips. For a second, Castiel tried to wrangle him, but it was all too much, and he ended up laughing and getting a mouthful of wiggling tongue at the same time, falling back in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

Dean just looked confused. “The mouth thing.”

“The…” Cas glanced back at his computer, comprehension doing nothing to leaden his mood. He chuckled out loud again. “You’re porn kissing me?”

“Was that wrong?”

Castiel rubbed at his face and shook his head. It wasn’t wrong, but God, how did he even begin to explain it?

“What?” Dean asked, as Cas climbed back to his feet. There was that hurt puppy dog look again.

“I’ve got an idea. If you’re so good at watching…” Cas threw himself into his chair and pulled up YouTube, typing his search straight into the browser search bar, then rolled away from the screen. “There.”

As he rolled away, he turned to watch Dean watch the screen. The angel cocked his head, then came closer, his lips moving, his fingers twitching, as he watched first one movie kiss and then another, and then another. By the time they’d watched thirty of them, Cas was tired of waiting, and he reached out and pressed pause.

“W-wait, I’m not sure I’ve got it yet,” Dean told him.

“You’ll pick it up as you go along.”

Dean still looked worried, but Castiel came back to stand in front of him, taking a deep breath and bumping in just a little bit closer. Dean was looking resolutely at his mouth, as though deeply considering which angle he was supposed to come at it. Cas closed the distance, and at one firm hands gripped his waist, pulling him closer, and Dean was kissing him, slowly and deeply, tongue against tongue, each breath a soft gasp between them. It was heady and exciting, and then Castiel found himself lifted off his feet and shoved with a thud into his door, knocking his head so hard against it he yelped into Dean’s mouth.

He broke the kiss, stunned, imaginary bluebirds circling his head. “What was that for?”

“The little one always gets pushed against something.”

“You’re saying I’m the girl?”

Dean frowned. “Is there that much of a difference?”

Castiel didn’t know where to start, so instead he shook his head. “It’s fine. Just...I’m fragile, okay? And remember, we don’t want my brothers to know what’s going on up here.”

“Your brothers? Oh. Okay. So… um…”

By quiet understanding, nodding closer to each other, they melted once more into the kiss. This time it was hotter and more earnest than it had been before, with Dean leading the charge. For someone who’d only watched porn and a few kisses, he was remarkably good at it, and within moments Cas was panting, making no effort to slow Dean down at all as the angel began to pull at his blazer and shirt buttons, stripping him out of his clothing. In return, he grabbed a handful of feathers and curled his fingers at the back of Dean’s neck and tried his best to just hang on for dear life.

It was only when he was abruptly standing there with his shirt hanging open that Dean just stopped, seemingly for no reason at all.

“What are you stopping for?”

“You didn’t show me anything more than that.”

“O-oh.” Cas swallowed, his head spinning. “Um. That’s because you know the rest already.”

“So this is the part where I rub my genitals on your face?” Dean asked, straightforwardly.

Understandably, Cas was horrified. “No!” he spluttered. “I mean. I mean maybe. But that’s not… That’s not the part I was thinking of. God, I…”

Castiel was blushing, shaking his head, and Dean just looked very confused, more upset again by the moment. It was all his fault, Cas realized. He watched awful porn, and now the angel had no idea how he was supposed to make other people happy. Not that he was meant to be making Cas happy like that, because apparently it was against all the angel rules…

“Look,” Cas said, at last. “Why don’t you… We… Why don’t I just fill in the blanks? I’m s-sure we can work this out.”

Was that really what he wanted? It wasn’t like Castiel had an excess of sexual experiences to go on, but… It wasn’t like he had the chance to sleep with a gorgeous angel every day, was it? And who would believe him? Hell, it seemed much more likely to him right now that he’d fallen asleep face down in his homework, and he wasn’t the kind of man to go turning down a sex dream.

“Let’s sit on the bed again. Or er… kneel on it, facing each other.”

Dean head over to the bed, and Castiel followed, shrugging off his shirt on the way. He had to appreciate just how eagerly Dean did what he’d been told to, though his wings hovered nervously out to either side of him, making him look like he was about to take off through the ceiling at any moment

“That’s good. C-can you fold them or something? You need to relax.”

It was awkward shuffling into position, but ultimately Dean moved so that his back was to the edge of the bed. He could fold his wings comfortably behind him, wingtips trailing on the floor. Castiel smiled, and in the interests of hurrying along Dean’s efforts to relax he reached up, kneading his fingers and thumbs into the bridges of feather covered muscle and bone which made up the first joint of both wings.

Slowly, Dean’s shoulders sagged, wings relaxing, and his head hung forward. That was when Castiel found his cheek again, drawing Dean back for another gentle, affectionate kiss.

It was positively dreamy. Cas had never brought anyone back to his own bedroom, and now here he was with an angel, one hand curled in plush feathers while the other stroked at Dean’s stubbled cheek, his neck. Dean didn’t take too much encouraging to touch him in return, and his hands were soon exploring Castiel’s chest, stroking over his thighs, pinching his nipple in the most ridiculous porny way…

Castiel was determined to pretend the porny stuff wasn’t weird. Dean seemed to get so offended when he told him off. This time he ignored it--and besides, it was sort of nice as well. Nobody had ever touched his nipple before.

Sighing into the kiss, Cas moved both of his hands to Dean’s sides, stroking him gently. His hands moved up and down, and Dean began to make a soft noise, a sort of vibration almost like a purr. It was coming from the wings, Cas realized, as he broke away from the kiss.

And then Dean began to push. Cas ended up on his back, with the angel looming over him, his wings spreading ever so wide, so high that they almost touched the ceiling. Castiel gasped, surprised but not frightened; stunned. They were gorgeous; imposing and handsome, and Castiel reached up and put his hands right in them, pushing back across the strong shoulders, folding his fingers through the tertials.

Dean towered over him. He was superb. He was powerful. Cas wanted every part of him, wanted to be taken by him.

Okay, so he was horny. But hey. This was a sex fantasy, right?

But God bless his imagination.

Cas suddenly realized he was staring - laying on his back and staring - when Dean tilted his head over to one side.

“What’s next?” Dean asked. “Aren’t we supposed to get pink?”


Dean shrugged like he had no idea, and Cas chuckled.

“You first?” he asked, hopefully.

It was amazing how quickly Dean stripped out of his jeans. It left Castiel breathless, stunned, and staring down at Dean’s cock like he’d never seen one before.

“Okay,” Cas said uncertainly. “Now me?”

Dean got right to it. Cas shivered. Dean’s hands were rough, pulling on his clothes, tugging at the end of his trousers to shuck Cas’ legs straight out of them.

Castiel, who lay there as Dean ran his hands back up his legs, and then boldly nudged his thighs open, lifting his knees higher until the soles of his feet were practically pressing against the shoulders of Dean’s wings. Those wings folded down, and as Dean’s hands moved from Cas’ thighs to flick at his nipples in tandem, the wrists of his wings, complete with subtly clawed feathered finger, clutched his hips tight.

Cas felt immensely trapped, claustrophobic under the weight of Dean’s wings.

“S-so we’re not going slow, I guess…”

“I don’t know,” Dean purred, leaning closer. “Is this too fast? What is too fast? Don’t you want me inside you?”

Cas swallowed. He really had to watch slightly more subtle porn.

“I want you inside me,” Cas said, nervous that the moment he said it he would blink and Dean would be inside him. “W-wait. I do, but we need lube, or oil or something first. It’s in my drawer.”

Dean looked at Castiel’s bedside cabinet, clearly recalling the blue and white bottle Cas was talking about.

“It’s oil?” he asked warily. “Like wing oil?”

Cas blinked in confusion. “Wing oil? Like oil in your wings?” He studied Dean’s wings intently. They looked tidy and clean and sleek, but not at all oily.

“For preening,” Dean replied. “To keep our feathers clean.”

Castiel frowned at Dean for a moment longer, then lifted his fingers nervously back up into the thick wings and dense feathers, exploring them eagerly. The broad shoulder of the wings were turned down now, exposing the back of the feathers, which were if anything even glossier and shinier than the front, and as he lay his hands down, Dean crooned, and his eyelashes fluttered shut.


“Oh… mmm…” Dean’s head sank a little lower. “Little higher. Feel the nub there?”

Castiel could feel something soft but hard, like a nipple, under the third flight feather in from each side. He carefully turned the feathers up in tandem to get his hands underneath them, and caught the nubs between thumb and forefinger, and when he did Dean shivered right to the tips of his wings.

“You like that?”

Cas was rubbing them experimentally, squeezing and teasing, and as he did Dean moaned and the grip of his wings tightened, his body coiling slightly forward. “Uh… Cas… Fuck. Cas. Cas!” He was yelling it now, crying out like it was a damn porno, punctuating each syllable with a roll of his hips against Cas’ ass.

“Shush!” Castiel hissed, pulling his hands away. Before he got very far, Dean shook all over above him, and all of his feathers fluffed up at once, like a pigeon sitting on a fence. Despite his fear that his brothers would come running up the stairs, Castiel still had to bite down on the instinct to laugh.

Finally he drew his own hands back from Dean’s shoulders, blinking down at them. They was a slick, slightly iridescent oil, covering him almost all the way up to the wrists. Clearly whatever he’d been doing had gotten Dean soaking wet, and yes, wet in a totally dirty way.

And since Dean was busy panting against his shoulder, Cas found himself taking advantage, reaching down between them to curl his hand around his cock. He didn’t hesitate, wasn’t even fully aware what he was doing, suddenly realizing he was swimming in the most incredible, erotic scent. It made him want to come and keep coming, rich and deep like sandalwood, but also slightly spicy, and the more he stroked himself, the more scent seemed to be released, driving him to fuck his fist harder.

Dean’s hands stopped him, abruptly, and he pushed Cas’ arms up out of the way and pinned them down with one long, stretched out wing, staring down at him with those dazzling green eyes.

“You’re not supposed to do it on your own,” he admonished. “I’m not even inside you yet.”

It took a few moments for Cas to really become aware of what had tugged him under, the alluring scent that pressed upon him from every angle. He breathed it in and looked down between their bodies. Dean’s hand and other wing were holding his hips now, which left Dean free to reach behind himself to the place where his secret preening glands were. His fingers returned, slick and shiny, and Cas trembled as Dean reached between his thighs, instinct making him draw in, but common sense telling him to relax.

Common sense lost, and Castiel tensed around the oily finger that pushed inside him, arching back underneath the angel and twisting at his bound wrists. He was breathless and shaky within a moment, because just like in the pornography he’d watched, Dean didn’t hesitate to fuck him with that single digit, even though it had Cas whimpering within moments.

Then, with a distinct ripple of pleasure, the discomfort stopped. His body relaxed, and he exhaled a trembling breath, and before he knew it Dean had pushed in a second slippery finger beside the first.

“How are you...ungh. That’s so good.”

He couldn’t believe it. No. And why would anyone ever believe him, either? If this was a dream then it made sense, but reality? Reality wasn’t a great, gleaming golden angel with his fingers up his ass.

No matter how real the feathers felt.

No matter the hot breath falling on his throat.

No matter how much his cock was aching.

Cas tried to bite down on another moan but he failed, the sound coming out instead like a strangled cry as Dean thrust his fingers in particularly roughly and sent fire searing through his veins. It felt like every part of him was burning, and the smell didn’t help much either, making him whimper for sensation, needing something…

A third finger made him forget about that need as the focus, instead, pulled down to the ache between his thighs, how very huge Dean’s fingers felt inside of him. He couldn’t see the angel’s cock any more, but he was pretty sure it was bigger, wider, even more frightening. If this was a dream then was he supposed to be frightened of being split open? He could feel the ache of it. He ached even more when those fingers slid free.

It wasn’t real.

But what if it was?

Castiel forced his eyes back open where he’d squinted them all the way shut, blinking up at the great silhouette of the wing above him, and the gleaming creature it belonged to. He was unrealistically beautiful, and also way out of Castiel’s league.

Dream. It was a dream.

And then the pressure began. It pushed against his entrance, and the slippery muscle surrendered as it had to the previous intrusion, and then he was being stretched impossibly open, his thighs trembling as the huge - it felt huge - head of Dean’s cock nudged its way inside. Nor did it stop. Though the tip felt enormous, the width of him followed, insistent, claiming, and Castiel found himself whimpering loudly in protest, only for Dean to choose this moment - this moment - to wrap his hand around his flagging cock.

It was eye-watering. It felt like too much all at once, and he moaned in protest, tugging again at his wrists. Dean let them go this time with a flourish, lifting his wings up over them like a hawk looming over its prey. But he was still sliding in, impossible amounts of him, pushing so demandingly that Cas felt like it could go on forever.

And then Dean pulled back, wings trembling, and somehow pushed deeper, jerking Castiel so hard on the bed that the headboard thumped against the wall.

Cas would have protested, but he couldn’t think. There was nothing in his mental landscape but the enormous cock inside him, and he could barely see the wings above him or feel the hand on his own erection for the weight of Dean inside him, pushing seemingly on the insides of his entire being in an effort to split him apart from within.

His brothers, downstairs, were forgotten.

Cas keened as Dean made another effort at a thrust, only managing a few inches, and he flailed his hands out and grabbed at Dean, holding tight to the arm that was squeezing his cock. The other grabbed at a tree trunk of a thigh and held on for dear life as the entire muscle flexed and moved in time with the movement inside him.

Then Dean was fucking him - fucking him - and Castiel was drowning in it. He was swimming in sensation, in Dean’s scent, full to the brim with such incredible friction that seemed to spark off supernovas through his body, and Dean was stroking him firmly with his fist. Within moments, precome was splashing over his belly along with the force of Dean’s movement, but the angel kept going, slamming into him, pounding the headboard louder and louder against the wall, until it was the drumbeat of the entire universe in Castiel’s head.

Thump, thump, thump. External, maybe, but internal, driving that exotic friction to wild and dizzying heights, and Castiel couldn’t stay quiet through that. He held on tight and writhed and moaned, and cried out Dean’s name as the angel spat profanities back at him that he could have only have learned from watching all of Castiel’s porn collection along with him.

Actually, he was pretty sure angels weren’t supposed to know some of those words.

But finally it was getting good. Soaked in sweat and feeling as though his entire body existed only in the pleasure between his thighs and golden feathers undulating above him like a wave with every thrust, Castiel couldn’t help but realize that he was spiraling closer and closer to an inescapable conclusion.

He was going to come.

The moment he thought that he was, it suddenly became impossible to stop it, and though he dug his fingernails into naked, perfect skin, Dean kept moving, impossibly perfect inside him. The wave of orgasm dragged him into its undertow, and round and round he went, spinning so that he had no comprehension which way way up any more. It didn’t matter. He was drowning in it, desperately trying and failing to suck in breath while his cock pulsed hot splashes against his belly, again in time with Dean’s rough thrusts.

Dean didn’t stop as he melted away. He kept moving, rough and eager, while Cas stared up at him. He could still feel it, tighter now inside him where his muscles had clamped down around Dean’s cock, but the drive toward orgasm was ebbing, and he found himself watching the angel huff and bellow and call him a “dirty boy,” watch his green eyes glaze over and his lips part into an O as his rhythm began to break apart, and then the pressure--God, the pressure! It was so incredible, just for a moment, that his own cock gave one more helpless little twitch, and then the angel was tumbling down on him like a dead weight, crashing onto him with wings all askew, and Cas pinned underneath him, getting a mouthful of fluffy down as he stared up at the ceiling.

The angel didn’t move for a while after that, and as Castiel slowly became more aware of his surroundings, he also became self conscious of the noise they must have made, with all that screaming and the bed thumping against the wall. Where were his brothers? Why hadn’t they come up here to see what all the noise was about?

Dean gave a little grunt, and turned his head, snuffling into Castiel’s neck wetly, and Cas almost laughed. It was so… it was so ridiculous. He wasn’t even sure he could roll the angel onto his side in case he crushed his wing. Of course if he wasn’t real, how could he crush his wing? But Dean didn’t move, and after a minute or so, when Dean began to snore softly, Cas couldn’t stand the weight on his chest any more, and he gave Dean a little push. The wing to that side automatically folded out of the way, but Dean didn’t wake. He snored on. He snored on even when Cas - wincing - pulled himself off his cock, glancing down at it as he wiggled just a little bit away.

Enormous. Not even erect any more and it was enormous. That hadn’t been inside him, had it?

Dream, he reminded himself. It was a dream.

But when Cas put his feet on the floor and tried to stand up, once again, it didn’t feel much like a dream. He ached all the way through, like he supposed a good hard fuck probably did, and as he hobbled his way over to the door, every uncomfortable step made him hiss.

Opening it, Cas peeked out, looking down the stairs. He could hear Lucifer telling Gabriel about his latest exploits as the biggest douche in the world. They weren’t even talking about him!

Cas turned around, and rubbed at his eyes, but when he looked again the angel was still lying there, ass up in the air, wings gleaming, flat out on his bed. In fact, he’d sort of spread out over it when Cas had stood up.

So Castiel made his way back over, stopping to grab a wet wipe to clean off the come on his belly before it stuck in the scant few hairs he had. Then, carefully, he slid back onto the bed, one of the wings obligingly lifting just far enough to allow him to crawl in underneath it. It curled in like a blanket, feathered claw clutching his shoulder possessively, and Cas had to figure that that was a good sign.

He stared at Dean for hours, it felt like, reluctant to go to sleep and stop watching the angel as he drooled on his pillow. But as his mind wandered, as he began to think that this dream was taking an awfully long time, sleep pulled him under at last.


He woke up tucked into bed neatly when Gabriel shoved open his bedroom door hard enough to rattle the whole room when it bounced off the wall.

“Dude, you’re late! Don’t you have an exam today?”

Cas blinked at him, sleepily, and stretched on the bed, turning his head to look at his clock. 8.15. He was late! But when he went to sit up, pain - no, soreness - made itself known all the way down the length of his back, then focused absolutely on his abused ass, and Cas groaned softly.

That was when Lucifer peeked into the room, blinking over Gabe’s shoulder. “Sleeping beauty still not up? Is that a hickey?”

Cas, who had not been worrying about anything of the sort, clamped his hand on his neck. Everything was rushing back, now, the angel, the rough sex, all the nibbling on his neck like it was going out of style… But that had been a dream, hadn’t it?

But his hand had found something underneath the covers, and when Cas pulled it out, he discovered that it was a single, long golden feather, one of the long primaries from Dean’s enormous wings. It glittered in the morning light shining in his bedroom window.

Then from the door he head a laugh, Lucifer again. “A feather, bro? Kinky.”

Gabriel elbowed him in the ribs and towed him away.

For a few, long minutes, even though he was late, all Castiel could do was stare at the bronze feather, turning it over and over in his hands. That had happened? It had really happened? He reached up to touch a bruise on his shoulder, a print left on him by the strong wings that had gripped onto his body as Dean positioned himself.

It was just so vivid.

So vibrant.



Suffice was to say that Cas failed his exam. For some reason he couldn’t quite concentrate. His mind kept drifting to the remembered sensation of Dean moving inside of him and the way his feathers trembled as he came, his very angelic nature completely undone by it, his pouty lips curled into a soft circle.

That night Dean came back when Castiel called for him.

“I’ll always come when you call,” he said.

“Heh,” Cas breathed, licking his lips and dragging his eyes down to waist level, just for a moment. “Yeah you will.”

And he did. And then he did it again.